fashionable among the dandy set two decades earlier.
“You are aware this isn’t a contest?” Trevor remarked, taking another drink from his glass. “No one wins for best performance.”
Given that all he had to do was drink to excess, or pretend to slur and stumble, he wasn’t helping to soothe matters by stating such a fact.
I pressed a hand to Gage’s chest before he could utter whatever retort was forming on his lips. “Just . . . be good-humored about it.” I turned to the side, draping my hands over my rounded belly. “Remember, I’m going to have to portray whatever role I’m to play like this. I can only hope it’s not a harem girl or Mrs. Princum Prancum, for I doubt I should be convincing as an Arabian dancer or a stern prude.”
This drew a chuckle from him, just as I’d hoped it would.
“I’m afraid harem girl isn’t one of the options in the basket,” Lord Edward remarked, alerting me too late to his presence. “But I shall have to remember that for next year. My siblings and I always consider it great fun to create the cast of characters for our mother’s party together over the winter holidays. Though I must admit, Nell is the best at it.” He gazed fondly across the room toward where his sister stood chattering with another lady. Then he turned back to me and Alana, a spark of devilry in his eyes. “What say you, ladies? Ready to discover your fate?”
Alana was the first to select while I continued to study Lord Edward’s gaze. There was something knowing about it, and I began to suspect he might be up to some particular mischief, though I didn’t know what. The parchments remaining in the basket all looked perfectly innocuous. There was no distinguishing feature to separate one from the other.
His smile softened. “Don’t you trust me, Lady Darby?” he said, addressing me by my courtesy title from my first husband, as most of society still did despite my wishes to the contrary, since Sir Anthony had been of a higher noble rank than Gage.
Though his words would seem to have been spoken in teasing flirtation, I realized they were merely playful banter. “I don’t know you well enough to trust you,” I replied, reaching out to select a parchment from the bottom of the basket, for good measure.
The corners of his eyes creased as his smile widened. “Fair enough.”
He sauntered off, though his gaze flicked toward my fingers as I slid the ribbon from around the rolled paper, evidently curious to see what character I had chosen. When I read the single word written there, I almost called him back to demand how he’d contrived such an outrageous bit of casting.
Trevor was the first to read over my shoulder, and he gave a shout of laughter, making the others of our party crowd close. They, too, dissolved into laughter. Even Philip, whom I was amused to hear give almost a girlish giggle. At that, I couldn’t help but smile in resignation. At the very least, my appearance would provide the other guests no end of merriment. In any case, I’d just told Gage to be good-humored. I could hardly refuse to do the same.
As if reading my thoughts, he wrapped his arm around my waist to pull me near.
I clasped my hands over my rounded belly. “I fear, in my current state, I shall not make a very good nun.”
His eyes twinkled. “On the contrary, an increasing abbess is perfect for Twelfth Night.”
I flushed at the double entendre, knowing the procuress of a brothel was also sometimes called an abbess.
He winked. “After all, what could be more upside down than that?”
It was a question that later we would wish he hadn’t asked.
CHAPTER TWO
Bree finished affixing the veil to my head and stepped back to survey her handiwork. In terms of the normal effort required of her to prepare me for a ball or dinner party, dressing me as a nun had been easy. But my maid never did things by half measure, and in addition to the habit and scapula she’d located among the trunks in the mural room, she’d fashioned a wimple from folds of almost sheer organza, which was much more comfortable than the scratchy wool affair she’d found. A veil of black satin had been draped over my head, hiding what could still be seen of my braided chestnut tresses. We’d gathered the folds of the habit and scapula together